


Hot for Teacher

by jrayoh23



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Eventual Smut, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, hot for teacher, post—hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-05-19 23:17:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5983968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jrayoh23/pseuds/jrayoh23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The students at Hogwarts are playing a dangerous game with Love Potions. Harry Potter is the Auror assigned to deal with the recent thefts from Hogwarts' Potions Professor and find the person behind the Love Potions. What Harry is not ready to deal with is his resurfacing feelings for none other than Potions Professor, Draco Malfoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harry Potter: The Assignment

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: These are not my characters. They are J.K. Rowling's babies, I am just making up scenarios where they can kiss.

Four years have gone by since Harry Potter had stepped foot on the grounds of Hogwarts. He told himself it was because of his hectic schedule as an Auror, but _really_ it was because of the bad memories. To be sure there were plenty good memories, but the bad ones were what dominated his nightmares. Flashes of Voldemort, always over him, always ready to kill. The faces of lost loved ones surrounded him, blurring his vision, drowning him.

Even during their repeated Seventh year of Hogwarts, bad things managed to find Harry. He was lucky that way, if one could call being targeted for death at least once a year since he was born _lucky_.

After he graduated and passed his NEWT’s, Harry Potter, _Saviour of the Wizarding World_ , decided not to look back. He decided to push forward and focus on his new life. A life that was still dangerous, but at least this time it was his choice, not some bloody prophecy, which made a difference, thank you very much.

Except, life has a funny way of making you do the things you fear most. So when his boss, Blaine Bellshot; Head Auror, gave Harry his new assignment at the morning briefing, Harry shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Potter, you are charged with investigating the uses of illegal Love Potions among Hogwarts students,” Bellshot said, his greasy hair sticking to his forehead. He liked saving Harry’s assignment for last because he knew it annoyed him.

Ron was lucky enough to be assigned to the Death Eater task force. Small splinter cells of Death Eaters seemed to be popping up again, wreaking havoc, or trying to at least. Most of their attempts had been stopped before they caused any real damage. Harry desperately wanted on that case, but of course, Bellshot wanted him on a case that a first year Auror could handle.

Bellshot had a problem with Harry. His problem was that Harry was _Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived_. His boss felt he didn’t deserve to be an Auror and that Harry had only secured a spot because he was Harry Potter, not because he was good at his job.

Bellshot claimed that Harry had an attitude problem and, so spent most of his time giving Harry the shit jobs and then yelling at Harry any chance he got. Harry could take it though because he loved having a job where he got to protect people. It’s all he ever wanted, really, to save people and keep them out of harms way.

“All right, you stupid prats, get on with your assignments,” Bellshot shouted and then spun on his heels before strutting out of the conference room. His boss’s mannerisms sometimes reminded him of Voldemort, though Harry would never say that aloud. Most people were perfectly happy forgetting that name and Harry didn’t like to bring it up either.

Harry looked over at Ron who was pretending to be occupied with a small bit of string hanging from the sleeve of his black Auror robes. Harry found it amusing that Ron always pretended that the strings on his clothing were interesting when he thought that Harry was about to get angry.

“Ron, I’m fine. Really,” Harry said. The rest of the Auror team had cleared out of the room. Ron perked his head up and smiled at Harry, who despite his kind of horrid mood, smiled back.

“Well, at least it’s Hogwarts, yeah? You can visit with Neville, Hagrid, and McGonagall. Should be nice,” Ron offered as encouragement.

“Yeah, ‘supose it could be worse,” Harry chided. He hadn’t meant to sound angry. He really did love his job, but Love Potions? _Really? Do the students at Hogwarts have no shame?_ Merlin, did Harry hate Love Potions. They always went wonky and someone almost always got injured. Since the war, Harry had gotten his fair share of Love Potion attempts. Most of them the short term kind that one could purchase at such fine establishments as _Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes._

During the first year after the war, Harry spent most of his free time avoiding women who weren’t Hermione, Ginny, or Mrs. Weasley for that exact reason. So, one might say Harry Potter was still a bit weary of Love Potions and being anywhere near them.

“Hey mate, I’m off to Hermione’s office before heading out with the task force. Wanna come with me?” Ron asked, pulling Harry out of his thoughts.

“’Course, mate,” Harry answered and fell in stride with Ron. The two of them walked out of the Auror’s main office and headed for the elevators that would bring them to Hermione’s office in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

                                                                                        ***  
Hermione was at her desk, surrounded by books and parchment. Harry decided it wasn’t much different from school and that thought brought him back to thoughts of his impending assignment. He was scheduled to head to Hogwarts by floo within the next hour. McGonagall had apparently requested Harry be the Auror to handle this job, something he found out when an owl dropped a small envelope in his hands while he and Ron made their way to Hermione's office.

“Hey, ‘Mione,” Harry said.

“Harry, Ron, hello,” Hermione said and then softly kissed Ron on the cheek, setting his face a nice shade of pink. Harry thought it was sort of wonderful that Ron still blushed when Hermione did that. It brought back nice memories. The kind that reminded Harry just how he had made it through school.

“How’s it going?” Ron asked.

“Splendidly stressful, but that’s to be expected,” Hermione smiled when she said that, which convinced Harry that she must really like being stressed out. She continued quickly, adding, “So, Hogwarts, yeah?”

“How’d you know?” Harry and Ron asked at the same time.

“Uh, well, I might have suggested to McGonagall that Harry handle the Love Potions thing,” Hermione said guiltily.

“You what?” Harry asked.

“Well, thing is, you have gotten much better at Potions, brilliant even, and well Hogwarts is home and honestly, Ron and I thought that it would be better than sending you off to kill Death Eaters so soon after Ned,” Hermione added.

“Sorry, but did I miss the part where you two became my mum and dad?” Harry’s voice was angry and he felt his hands shaking. He hated when Hermione mentioned Ned as if it were the weather, so fleeting and easy to talk about.

“No, mate, of course not, but ‘Mione is right. We are worried about you. Ned only passed less than a year ago,” Ron’s voice was tender and Harry knew, deep down, that Ron was only trying to be a good friend, but when Harry got into these moods, he had tunnel vision and could only see anger.

“Ned wasn’t your fault. You have to know that by now, Harry. And capturing all of the Death Eater’s in the whole of London wont bring him back,” Hermione said. She was right, of course, but Harry didn’t have to admit it, especially if his best mates were going to treat him like a child.

“I know that. Ned…he was…” Harry couldn’t speak. His voice hitched in his throat and he felt his face get hot they way it did right before he cried and he was not going to cry over Ned in front of Ron and Hermione. Not when they were both still convinced that Harry had survivor’s guilt.

Ron put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and smiled weakly. Harry only nodded and then turned to exit the offices and head for Hogwarts. At least at Hogwarts no one would ask him about Ned. So, that was something.

 

                                                                                  ***

“Harry, dear, so good to see you,” Professor McGonagall smiled at Harry upon his arrival in her floo.

“Yeah, wonderful to see you too, Professor,” Harry said and really it was wonderful to see her. McGonagall was the closest thing Harry had to Dumbledore. She even acted like the man sometimes which was both oddly comforting and oddly terrifying.

“So, I assume you’ve been told what’s happened?” McGonagall crossed the large office to sit in a chair next to Harry. The office hadn’t changed much since Dumbledore was it’s tenant. Less trinkets to be sure, but many of the same paintings dangled from the stone walls. There was, however, no longer a spot for Faux.

“Only a little. I know you are having a Love Potion problem, but that’s it.”

“Yes, our Potion’s professor informed me that students stole the ingredients for Amortentia,” McGonagall sighed deeply before continuing, “Previously, ingredients for lesser Love Potions were stolen and given out as pranks, but now it has escalated. Obviously, this needs to be dealt with before any of the students experience it’s effects. We are not sure who stole the ingredients, but we have a list of students who might have the ability to make the potion themselves.”

“May I speak to the Potions professor?” Harry asked. He also wondered who had taken up the position after Slughorn's replacement, Matilda Melthrose, had so abruptly resigned last year. Harry vaguely remembered Hermione mentioning to him, but couldn’t place the memory.

“Yes, I do believe you know the way, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall smirked at him, which was weird and totally unnerving. Then she stood up and abruptly transfigured herself into a tabby cat and pranced out of the office, leaving Harry by himself.

                                                                                     ***

Harry did indeed know the way. He found the dungeons easily enough, but found he was stopped by several students asking him if he really was Harry Potter, _the Harry Potter._ Some of them wanted autographs, which Harry hated doing because he felt he didn’t really deserve the fame since he wasn’t the only one who defeated Voldemort. However, he did it because Hermione explained that he was _the face of Hope for young wizards and it would be selfish of him if he didn’t embrace it, even just a little._

The door to the Potions room was ajar, so Harry peeked his head in and saw there were no students and no professor. Harry really wished he could remember who Hermione had said the Potions professor was, but Harry never really remembered things unless they were Quidditch related, or for his job.

Just as Harry resolved to come back later to find the professor, he heard a soft thump and someone cursing. Harry stifled a laugh because the voice had seemed to mumble blasted first-years…dundering fools. And so, he looked and saw the professors office door was cracked ever so slightly and marched over to it and knocked lightly, “Excuse me, Professor?”

“Oh, what is it now?” The voice spoke and Harry’s heart flopped. He knew that voice. How had he not recognized it at once? That posh, drawling voice. The voice that so often had been on the other end of an insult. And before Harry could make a run for it, the professor had opened his office door.

“M-Malfoy?” Harry stammered. He hadn’t seen the sniveling git in almost four years. Not since their repeated seventh year after the Battle of Hogwarts. Not since…but his thoughts were cut off when the door was abruptly slammed in Harry’s face.

Harry was smarting. Had Malfoy really just slammed a door in his face? They were adults now, surely they didn’t have to behave like they were eleven all over again. To be fair, the two had never really resolved things between them, but they had both made attempts at apologizing in their repeated year. That had to count for something.

So, Harry decided to bang on the door loudly, until Malfoy answered. Just as he raised a hand to knock, very loudly, the door swung open again and Harry was face to face with Malfoy who looked more composed this time.

“Sorry, Potter,” Malfoy spoke, but his voice was strained, “Where are my manners? Do come in.”

“I, uh, I didn’t know you worked here,” Harry said. What he had meant to say was something polite of course, but instead his brain had settled on an obvious observation as it often did when Harry was caught off guard.

“Only got hired last year,” Malfoy made his way back to his chair that sat behind a large oak desk. The office had a much different feel than it had when Snape was the owner. It was less doom and gloom and more _hey, I like potions, couldn’t you tell?_ There were vials everywhere, empty and full. They were organized in almost an obsessive manner and Harry noticed that there was a small puddle on Malfoy’s wooden work bench which led Harry to believe to have prompted the cursing he heard earlier.

“I’m here about Love Potions,” Harry asserted all too quickly in one breath, hoping desperately for a subject change.

At that declaration, Malfoy raised and eyebrow playfully and quirked his lip up into a half-smirk before saying, “Oh, trouble with the ladies, Potter? There are easier ways to get dates, you know.”

“Oh, no, Merlin, no. What I meant is I am the Auror assigned to your case…Hogwarts case,” Harry’s face went red as he spoke. He wasn’t really sure why he was blushing. Malfoy had insulted his sexual prowess plenty of times over the years, but for some reason even the implication that Harry was so hopeless romantically that he needed a Love Potion, embarrassed him.

“Ah, right. That makes a bit more sense,” Malfoy said and smiled wryly.

“Profe--Headmistress McGonagall said that you have had the ingredients to Amortentia stolen? And previously the ingredients to lesser potions, as well?” Harry was still getting used to calling McGonagall, Headmistress. She had told Harry not to bother with it, but he felt since he was here in a formal capacity, he could at least try.

“Yes, the students at this school seem to have gotten bolder since we left. They are playing pranks on one another. I think they find the effects of the potions to be amusing,” Malfoy was twisting a small quill around between his index finger and thumb. Harry noted that the blonde seemed distracted.

“Right, bloody hilarious,” Harry mumbled remembering his last experience with a short-term Love Potion. He had made quite the fool of himself at a Ministry dinner, leaping over a table to kiss Ron, who had accidentally handled the potion before Harry drank up the whole thing.

“Hmm,” Malfoy hummed before continuing, “However, the ingredients for the Amortentia can be dangerous and long lasting. Plus making the potion is much more advanced and if done incorrectly, could result in the drinker going mad.”

“Any ideas on who took it?” Harry asked. “We could give them a small bit of Veritaserum and ask them.”

“Haven’t the slightest,” Malfoy quipped. The blonde, who up until now had been avoiding making eye contact with Harry, was now starring at him in an excruciatingly intense manner.

“Well, I am going to be staying at Hogwarts for the duration of my investigation, so if you think of anything…” Harry trailed off mid-sentence because he was starkly aware of Malfoy’s eyes all over him.

“Yes, well, as wonderful as it has been catching up, I do have other things to attend to. You may root through my potions closet if you wish to get a better idea of how much of everything was taken. But do pay mind to where they all belong. I hate messes. Excuse me,” and with that Malfoy exited his office and left Harry to stare at a very large portrait of Severus Snape. Of course the Slytherin git would have a bloody portrait of Snape looming over his desk. Typical.


	2. Draco Malfoy: The Crush

_Of bloody course, bloody Harry Potter would be the sodding Auror assigned to the sodding case_ , Draco cursed to himself as he exited his own office leaving the stupid git to sort through his potions inventory.

Four years. Four stupid years and Draco still couldn’t handle looking into those emerald eyes without his stomach flopping around and mucking up any semblance of control Draco had over his emotions.

As Draco walked the length of the castle, he found himself outside at the Greenhouses, looking for Neville who had become something of a friend over the last year.

“Nev? Hello, Nev are you in here?” Draco called from behind rows and rows of Mandrake’s. _Those bloody awful things, ugh._

“Draco, is that you? I’ll be right out,” Neville called from the opposite end of the room. As Hogwarts Herbology professor, Neville had really come into himself. Of course, he had become strikingly handsome, but it was more than that. Neville was sure of himself now and Draco liked that in friend.

The man had been kind to him, even though Draco had expected to be hated, especially by Neville. In truth, Draco was always shocked when someone forgave him for his abhorrent behavior while at Hogwarts. But Neville had welcomed him on as Potions professor with open arms and never once brought up Draco’s past. And for that he was grateful, but he would never bloody well admit it to the prat. He did have a reputation to uphold, after all.

Finally, Neville emerged from behind the Mandrake’s with a clay pot in one hand and a pruning shear in the other. Neville spoke, “Draco, what brings you to this side of the castle?”

“You know you look positively _mad_ right now? Dirt all over the place and pruning shears. It’s quite the look,” Draco joked.

“Oh, har, har, Mr. Designer Robes,” Neville laughed, “What’s got your knickers in a twist?”

“ _Potter_ ,” Draco spoke only the one word, but Neville’s face lit up in understanding.

“Ah, the aforementioned Golden Boy is here then?” Neville asked and Draco laughed a bit at the fact that Neville had just called Harry sodding Potter, the Golden Boy, which is how Draco always seemed to refer to him when he was complaining about the git.

“Yes, seems the Ministry would torture me by sending him to handle the Potion’s case.”

“Oh, poor Draco Malfoy, having to deal with an age old crush. What ever will you do?”

“I seem to remember you being much more timid when we were in school.”

“Seems someone has had a bad influence on me then, yeah?” Neville cocked an eyebrow up and smiled. He really was gorgeous, but of course, Draco had to be absolutely in love with Harry sodding-stupid-wanker Potter.

Draco had made the mistake of telling Neville, when he was completely pissed one night, how during their last year, the repeated year, at Hogwarts, Draco had fallen in love with Harry Potter.

Draco hadn’t been sure of his feelings for Harry Potter after the war. Draco always seemed to want to talk to Potter, but never could find the words. And then during one of the Slytherin-Gryffindor Potions classes, Draco had been paired with the Golden Boy and their hands had brushed each other ever so slightly, but the touch was enough to make Draco feel like his heart had stopped. He had looked up at the Golden Boy who only smiled awkwardly and continued on as if nothing of significance had happened, as if Draco’s world hadn’t just completely shifted from underneath him.

It woke him up out of a stupor and he quickly realized he had always loved Potter, _the stupid prat_. All the obsessing, all the attention seeking, it had been his way of flirting, sort of.

At least, he had wanted Harry’s attention, of that he was sure.

“Well, are you going to say anything to him?” Neville asked, pulling Draco out of his memory.

“Absolutely not. No way,” Draco answered, “You know that I can’t.”

“I know,” Neville sounded crestfallen, “I wish you could though. I think the two of you would be perfect for the other."


	3. Harry Potter: The Great Hall

After two whole hours of looking through Malfoy’s tediously written inventory logs, the lot of which were scribbled in a nearly unintelligible cursive, Harry’s stomach was calling attention to itself. Grumbling so loudly, it echoed off the stone walls. He was very ready to eat and he noticed it would be dinner in the Great Hall, so he marched his hungry stomach toward the smell of food.

The halls still felt enormous as they had when Harry first arrived at Hogwarts so many years ago. A memory tugged at him. The memory of Malfoy offering his friendship out on the steps and Harry abruptly refusing his friendship in hopes of gaining Ron’s trust. He never regretted that choice, but sometimes he did wonder whether he and Malfoy could have been friends and how differently his life would have unfolded. Harry shook the memory from his head and briskly walked to the main table where all the professors, Malfoy included, sat.

There were of course whispers from the students as he made he was down the long tables: _Oh, look that’s Harry Potter; I told you he was here!_ Harry made the decision to ignore them, as he had always ignored people. It was a talent he acquired after so many years of being in the spotlight.

When he reached the main table, McGonagall smiled warmly and offered Harry a seat next to Hagrid, which Harry was very pleased with, especially since it had been a month since he last seen the man.

Out of habit, Harry scanned the Great Hall for Malfoy. He really tried convincing himself it was just a habit he acquired from always being suspicious of the prat and not because Harry found Malfoy’s pale skin to be tempting him in a most carnal way like the waining crescent of the moon to a werewolf.

On the far end of the table, Harry saw Neville sitting next to Malfoy, which struck him as odd, but he supposed the two of them did work together, so it wasn’t as weird as he thought. He waved at Neville who smiled and a fondness of the man washed over him. He let himself smile briefly before realizing that Malfoy had smirked at the pairs exchange and then shook his head before taking a long gulp from his goblet. Harry watched Malfoy’s lips part and then settled on the rim of the goblet. It was such an ordinary movement, but something about it made Harry’s eyes light up and his heart pound recklessly.

“’Arry, so good to see yeh,” Hagrid said, slapping Harry on the shoulder affectionately.

“Great to see you, too. How’s things?”

“Me classes are goin’ much better, much better indeed. McGonagall’s let me teach the Care ‘o Magical Creatures ‘gain.”

“That’s wonderful, Hagrid, truly,” and Harry was happy for his friend, but found that he was sort of tuning Hagrid out as he went on about Flobberworms and how the first years were getting on. Instead, Harry found himself watching Malfoy. He, once again, told himself it was out of habit, as most of his time at Hogwarts was spent watching the sneaky git, so really it wasn’t a total lie. Though if Harry were being honest, the last year spent at Hogwarts, Harry’s watchfulness of the blonde was less out of suspicion and more out of curiosity.

So now, when Harry looked over at Malfoy, he was paying attention to how closely Malfoy and Neville sat to one another and he felt a small pang of… _jealousy_. No, that’s absurd, what was he jealous of, no it had to just be residual boyhood hate for the blonde. After all, being back at Hogwarts was awakening a lot of old emotions for Harry. Things he had resigned to stop thinking about a long time ago and on the top of that list of things was Malfoy and his stupidly attractive smile…no, that’s not what he’d meant, he meant Malfoy’s obnoxiously infuriating smirk. That was more like it.

Absentmindedly, Harry was shoving a treacle tart into his mouth as his mind wandered to the case. He scanned the Great Hall, the tables of students were full and he couldn’t tell if any of them look like they were the type to use a Love Potion. He figured whoever it was, either didn’t know the damage a botched Amortentia potion could cause, or they did know and didn’t care. Harry figured his best bet was to interview as many professors as possible and compile a list of the students most likely to pull pranks, or students who tended to be trouble makers. That would be a good place to start. Plus McGonagall had said she complied a list of people who brew the potion successfully.


	4. Draco Malfoy: The Not Looking at Potter

Of course, McGonagall would seat Potter with Hagrid. And of course that meant he had a perfect view of the git. He watched Potter’s face light up as he spoke to Hagrid. Every line of his face, turned up in a smile. Draco noted that Potter’s expressions were always so genuine. The man never held back his feelings, or hid them behind a smirk.

“Draco, you’re starring,” Neville commented.

“I know. It’s just, well, I haven’t seen him in years,” Draco replied, “Is it possible he has gotten more attractive?” That thought was out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Wow, you need to pull yourself together,” Neville laughed and shouldered Draco playfully. And just then, Draco noticed Potter watching him with Neville, first the man smiled and waved at Neville, but then his face turned red and Draco couldn’t help but laugh to himself because even if it was partly due to his proximity to Neville, Harry Potter had been looking at him.

“I _am_ trying,” Draco mumbled.

“Or you could just…tell him.”

And of course, Neville was referring to a sloppy drunk snogging session Potter and Draco had during their repeated year. It had been the highlight of Draco’s life, if he were being honest, and most nights he would let the memory of Potter’s warm lips, tasting of Firewhiskey, lull him into a slumber. But the stupid Golden Boy had never mentioned it afterwards and so, Draco took that to mean one of two things: Potter didn’t remember, or he hadn’t liked it.

“No, I can’t. How do you just tell someone something like that?”

“Dunno,” Neville resigned looking over at Draco with sympathetic eyes. Again, Draco found himself wishing he could let go of Potter and move on. Neville had made it clear many times that he would be interested in dating Draco, but Draco had never felt right dating someone when he knew he would always be in love with Harry Potter.

A few silent moments passed between Neville and Draco before Draco decided he needed desperately to change the subject because he couldn’t handle not looking at Potter anymore. “So, more stuff was taken from my inventory,” Draco opted to change the subject by bringing up the students and their thievery.

“You should tell Harry, you know. Seeing as he is here to investigate and all,” Neville’s mouth quirked up into a mischievous smile which only made Draco feel silly. Of course, this topic would lead to Potter, how sloppy of him.

“Oh, bloody stop it match-maker. I am not going to tell Potter. He wouldn’t even care if I did,” Draco said, but he found himself standing up and striding over to the man, hoping to Merlin he cold keep it together.


	5. Harry Potter: The Slytherin Problem

“Potter, a word?” Malfoy’s voice rang in his ears, pulling him from his thoughts. The man’s gray eyes were on him again and Harry felt his heart flop once more as it had when he first realized Malfoy was the Potions professor.

“Mm,” Harry answered. Not exactly a word, but Harry figured it would suffice.

“Eloquent as always, Potter,” Malfoy said and then spun away, letting his robes flare out the way Snape’s had. The thought made Harry cringe a bit, but he got up, excusing himself and followed the blonde out of the Great Hall. He was here to work after all and Malfoy was the Potions professor. It was all _totally_ professional.

Malfoy headed straight for the dungeons and Harry had to half-walk-half-run to keep up with the stupid wanker. Finally, Malfoy stopped in front of the Potions room. Harry was glad they had reached their destination because he was out of breath.

“Did you happen to take any of my Ashwinder Eggs? I seem to be missing some since you were rooting around in my classroom,” Malfoy’s tone wasn’t accusatory, but it was worrisome.

“No, ‘course not,” Harry wasn’t sure why this was making him so worried. The dark circles around Malfoy’s eyes seemed to appear out of nowhere and the blonde’s lips were pursed in a straight line. And Harry found he wanted to do something, anything, to ease Malfoy’s mood though he had no bloody idea why Malfoy’s mood was of any concern to him. Or maybe he did, but that was a thought for another…well, _never_.

“Maybe I miscalculated then,” Malfoy turned on his heel and entered the classroom. He strode over the the storage closet where all the potion ingredients were housed. He entered the small room and Harry quickly followed, noting that the blonde was not good at waiting for people.

“Ashwinder, that's used in the love portions? Do you think that means another love potion debacle will happen soon?” Harry asked.

Malfoy turned around to Harry with a simply shocked look on his face. Hie eyes had opened wider and his mouth was sort of open in an “O” shape. Finally, Malfoy spoke, “Impressive. I had always figured you for a dunce when it came to potions. Or at least, you always seemed it in classes. I do suppose, however, that you needed to brush up on the ingredients for this case.”

“I, er, actually I studied a lot our last year here. It was, uh, much easier when I wasn’t getting regular death threats,” Harry mumbled because, to his surprise, it sounded a little like Malfoy had complimented him which was something Harry expressly remembered Malfoy had never done.

“Too right,” Malfoy laughed and now it was Harry’s turn to look shocked. He didn’t think that he had ever heard a genuine laugh come from Malfoy in all the years he had know the man. Harry was dumbfounded because he found he actually _liked_ the sound of Malfoy’s laugh and found himself wishing he had heard it sooner. Merlin, Hogwarts was making Harry think some very odd things. Things he had told himself he would not think about ever again, under any circumstance.

“So, now someone is stealing more ingredients and without anyone noticing them in your classrooms? Could…well, could it be a professor?” Harry asked tentatively. Sometimes being an Auror meant asking the kinds of questions that made people get defensive. Plus, most of the problems while Harry had been a student were expressly related to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, so it didn’t seem like a bad question to ask.

“Oh, maybe, I guess. Lot of new professors this year, but I doubt McGonagall would hire them if she wasn’t sure they could be trusted. She’s not quite as flippant as her predecessor,” Malfoy said, but then quickly looked at Harry, which Harry took to mean Malfoy was worried that he had offended him.

“Too right, too bloody right,” Harry said in an effort to calm the blonde’s nerves. Harry didn’t really know why he cared so much if Malfoy was uncomfortable, but he did, in fact, he cared very much. Plus he had admitted a long time ago that Dumbledore was a bit sneaky with his motives and he sure did keep Harry in the dark pretty often.

Just as Harry was about to ask Malfoy another potions related question, a student came running in shouting for the professor.

“Professor Malfoy, come quick,” the small boy was out of breath as if he had run the length of the castle. Harry figured he couldn’t be more than a first year. He was small in stature with dark black hair and he wore a green tie. _Slytherin, of course_.

Malfoy was running after the boy so quickly, Harry had to run to catch up. They both ran in stride as the boy led them down further into the dungeons, stopping at the entrance to the Slytherin dorms.

Malfoy waved his wand and the entrance to the dorms opened. Harry felt a wave of nostalgia hit as he remembered the time in second year when he and Ron had taken Ployjuice potion and infiltrated the Slytherin common room in hopes of getting information out of Malfoy. Now, he was standing side-by-side with the blonde Slytherin in the emerald and black common room, looking at what seemed to be a fourth year blowing kisses at Malfoy.

“What is the meaning of this?” Malfoy asserted, turning to the boy who had dragged them down to the dungeons. There were collective giggles from the crowd of Slytherin’s who had heard the commotion and wanted a front row seat to the show.

“Oh, Professor Malfoy, your voice is like a thousand angel’s singing,” the fourth year said, moving closer to Malfoy with a star-struck look in his eyes, one Harry knew all too well as the eyes of someone who was unfortunate enough to drink a love potion. The boy continued, “Draco Malfoy, a god among men, don't you all agree? Look at his cheek bones. They are perfect…”

“I-I beg your pardon?” Malfoy said, his cheeks went a bit red and Harry stifled a laugh.

“So, which of you lot tricked Professor Malfoy into handling the love potion before giving it to poor,” Harry paused, “What is the poor blokes name?”

“Nero,” the small boy who had fetched them spoke up, “He’s my brother.”

“Ah, I see, so who gave Nero the potion, yeah?” Harry continued.

“Professor Malfoy, your skin is the most radiant skin. It is like the sun, but only more beautiful. And your lips, to lay a kiss upon them would be heaven,” Nero confessed, with a look of adoration. The boy tried to reach a hand over to Malfoy, but the Potions professor leapt back and stumbled into Harry.

“Yes, Nero, he is quite lovely isn't he?” Harry played along. Sometimes the only way to deal with a person under the thrall of the love potion is to agree with what they say and keep them calm. Though, Harry had to admit the kid had a point about Malfoy’s skin.

“Ex-excuse me, Potter?” Malfoy stammered. The crowd all giggled again at Malfoy’s apparent discomfort. This was a game to them.

Harry turned and winked at Malfoy, who was all but clutching onto Harry’s robes, “Nero here seems to be under a spell, it would be impolite to disagree with him, don't you agree, Professor?”

“Er, right yes,” Malfoy seemed to catch on and gathered his composure, “Yes, Nero, would you please come with Auror Potter and I?”

“I would go anywhere for you, Professor Malfoy, anywhere,” Nero said and then blew a kiss Malfoy’s way.

“I'm coming too, he’s my brother,” the small boy asserted and Harry didn't have the energy to disagree, so he nodded and the four of them left the Slytherin dorms and headed to the Infirmary with hopes of reversing the effects.

                                                                                          ***

“Draco, dear, it is good to see you,” Madam Pomfrey said as she worked to heal the boy, who was trying to scoot his way down the bed to be in closer proximity to Malfoy.

“Yes, though I wish it were under better circumstances,” Malfoy said, turning to look at Harry who was now wearing a surprised sort of grin, “I fear someone has slipped him Amortentia and thank Merlin, it seems to have been brewed correctly, so we shouldn't have trouble reversing the effects.”

“Oh, this poor boy will be very embarrassed once the potion wears off. Those cruel children. It isn't bad enough they are making love potions among themselves, they have taken it a step further and made it so he fancies a professor,” Madam Pomfrey said, smiling warmly at the blonde before continuing, “At least they picked a handsome professor, eh?” Madam Pomfrey finished with a wink.

 _Did everyone like Malfoy now?_ Harry wondered when all the animosity surrounding the stupid git had segued into fondness. Even McGonagall seemed to adore Malfoy. At least he knew one person who still disliked the prat; Ron Weasley.

“So, someone tried using a love potion on my brother? Is he going to be all right? Who did this?” the boy spoke up. Harry found it odd that a boy so young was holding his composure in a situation like this.

“Ned, please try to remain calm,” Malfoy said and Harry all about fainted upon learning the boys name was Ned. Surely, the universe was playing a joke on him. Harry’s face went white and he stumbled backward into a bed and feeling a dizziness settle in over him the way it did when he’d had one too many Firewhiskey shots.

“Harry, are you okay?” Madam Pomfrey asked, but it felt as if the world went foggy and Harry was having trouble breathing.

“What? Oh, yes, sorry. Got a bit lightheaded is all,” Harry lied, but it was easier than admitting he was thinking about his recently deceased Auror partner and sort of boyfriend, who had saved his life by taking an Avada curse that was meant for Harry.

                                                                                      ***

After watching Madam Pomfrey perform some more healing charms, Harry decided it was time for bed. McGonagall had told him he could sleep in the Infirmary, so Harry said goodnight to Madam Pomfrey and Malfoy, before shutting the curtain around his bed.

He wanted to be away from people right now. All he could think of was Ned and how they had gone out on a routine assignment, checking old Death Eater hide-outs, and had been ambushed upon arrival.

Ned was quick and he was the better Auror, but he had died that day. He had been Harry’s mentor upon Harry’s entrance to the Auror training. Harry hadn’t been immediately interested in the man, but after two years of working alongside him, Harry had grown fond of him and when Ned had moved to kiss him after a long night of filling out paperwork, Harry hadn’t stopped him.

The pair went on like that for weeks before Harry felt confident enough to tell his friends he was gay and that is why he dumped Ginny so abruptly after the war had ended. No one was really shocked apparently and Ned helped Harry come to terms with his sexuality much the same way he trained Harry to become an Auror. Ned was always kind to him and affectionate, but Harry never did fall in love with him, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying. It was just that something always seemed to be missing. Harry had felt the same with Ginny. In fact, he was beginning to believe he couldn’t fall in love, that he was broken. That maybe because his life was tied to Voldemort that he would find the same fate waiting for him; loneliness.

So when Ned had declared his love for Harry only a few days before he passed away, Harry had begged himself to feel something, really he had, but there was nothing. All he could think of was that there was something, a memory, tugging at his subconscious, trying to reveal itself, but never being able to step into the light. It was the thing he always felt missing.

They had been cuddling after sex and Ned looked down at Harry and just blurted it out. Harry didn’t know what to say, so he only kissed the man and pulled him in closer. He hoped that by not responding Ned would let it drop, but he hadn’t.

Then, Harry proceeded to avoid Ned because he didn’t know how to tell him that he cared for Ned, yes, but he wasn’t in love with Ned. Eventually, Hermione convinced him to do the moral thing, as she always did. Ned was heartbroken, to say the least, but didn’t let it effect the way he treated Harry at work, and apparently it didn’t effect his desire to keep Harry safe, which had sadly been his downfall.

The guilt Harry carried around with him about Ned was deafening at times. It had been months, almost a year in fact, since Ned passed and yet Harry couldn’t let it go. The guilt. If he had been quicker, or if he had loved Ned back maybe things would have been different. Some nights, all he could do was remember Ned’s limp body in his arms as Harry carried him to St. Mungo’s.


	6. Draco Malfoy: The Flashback

After Potter shut himself away behind the curtains of the Infirmary bed, Draco’s mood had calmed considerably. Keeping his composure around Potter was proving to be difficult, to say the least. Draco always prided himself on maintaining a calm, cool, collected sort of vibe during times of unrest. Unfortunately, post-war Draco was a mess of nerves, at least until he had finished his Potions mastery and retained a job at Hogwarts. That small victory had led to his regaining some composure.

But in the face of Harry Potter, nothing felt composed. Draco had to work extra hard to make sure he didn’t smile every time the git walked into the room. He also had to remind himself to occasionally insult the man as it was their familiar dynamic. Every move he made, he considered the outcomes before acting.

And between worrying about Nero and Ned, Draco was trying to avoid looking at Potter too long, or saying anything that sounded remotely affectionate.

He didn’t want the Golden Boy to think…well, he didn’t know what he wanted Potter to think.

“Draco, would you be a dear and fetch me some more ingredients from your supply?” Madam Pomfrey’s voice cut through his subconscious, “I’ll be in my office when you return.”

“Of course, I’ll be right back.”

“Me too, I need to check something,” McGonagall said and then quickly Transfigured into a tabby cat and pounced away.

Draco found his way to and from the dungeons to be uneventful as the students had gone to bed. The only occupants in the halls were Mrs. Norris and Filch, stalking around hoping to catch a first year out of their bed. At least somethings remain familiar.

When Draco finally returned to the Infirmary, he heard a quiet moan coming from Potter’s bed. It was an agonizing moan, one that sounded like Potter was in pain. Draco ran over to the bed and drew the curtains open with a quiet flick of his wand.

Potter was sweating profusely and tossing around under his covers. Draco moved to wake the man, but then felt guilt rise up in his stomach as if he had just read the man’s diary because Potter had begun mumbling: _No, please. Don’t die on me. Don’t. Please, stay with me._

So, Draco slowly backed away from the bed and closed the curtain again, feeling an odd combination of guilt and curiosity because _who was dying and why did Potter care so much?_  

When he walked to Madam Pomfrey’s office and found the woman asleep over her potions’s table, he decided to prepare the potion for her. No sense in waking the poor woman now.

As Draco worked, his own memory plagued him like a waking nightmare and he couldn’t stop himself from remembering. A fight he and Potter had one Saturday before Christmas break their repeated year.

Harry Potter had been rushing through the courtyard just as the snow had begun falling. Draco was sitting on a bench talking with Pansy and Blaise, minding his own business, when Potter had stopped directly in front of him and shouted at him to stand up.

“Malfoy, come with me…NOW!” Harry Potter’s voice rang in his head and Draco had stood up, confused, but followed the man out of the courtyard and up the steps to the Astronomy Tower all the while wondering just what he had done this time.

Up until that day, Draco and Potter hadn’t done much talking. Yes, they still bickered, especially in Potions when they were partnered together and Potter was being an git. But they hadn’t had conversations, well, at least not while sober. Both boys took to drinking after the war and quite often their drunken paths crossed. 

The most memorable conversation was when Potter had gotten drunk on a weekend, as he had taken to doing quite often after the war, and ended up literally bumping in to Draco and then proceeded to tell Draco how he had never really been attracted to Ginny and how there was so much pressure on him now that he had saved the Wizarding World. Pressure to marry, to become an Auror. And according to Potter, he didn’t want any of it. The man slurred through each sentence, leaning on Draco for support as Draco attempted to to drag him back the the Gryffindor tower for Weasley and Granger to deal with.

Really, they were no longer enemies as Draco had made sure to apologize and apologize until Potter had accepted, but they weren’t friends either, so this outburst in the courtyard had been very confusing and had Draco’s mind running wild. Surely, there was a reason for Potter’s outburst and Draco found himself hoping against all hope that it was because Potter had finally started to remember.

Once the pair had reached the landing of the tower, Potter had turned on him and started shouting again, “You stupid, git. You sit here all year and pretend, but you…you…” Harry stopped mid-sentence and blushed. His face as red as Weasley’s hair.

“What are you on about, Potter?” Draco had no idea what the man had meant, but he was worried. Draco occasionally flirted with Potter under the guise of bickering and was sure the Golden Boy wasn’t so daft that he hadn’t realized, but he didn’t think that was what this outburst was about. It seemed a bit more serious than that, which gave Draco hope that Potter had finally realized what Draco had known all year.

“I just overheard Theo Knott, of all people, telling Ginny how she had better keep an eye on me because Draco Malfoy was in love with me, too, and if anyone could get me to like blokes it was you because you are just soooo bloody charming.”

“Excuse me, what did you just say?” Draco, of course, had heard what Potter had said, but couldn’t believe Theo had been so hurt by Draco’s rejection that he would do this. Theo had wanted Draco since their fourth year, but other than a few good shags, Draco wasn’t very interested and had finally been blunt with Theo as to why.

“You know what I’ve just said. Now, tell me it isn’t true.” Harry was pacing now and his hands were balled into fists. His hair was a tangled mess, as always. Draco wanted to reach over and grab Potter’s hand to try and calm him, but instead he stood there mouth agape and tried to think of a response.

“Sorry?” Draco decided to keep playing dumb because then maybe the silly Golden Boy would get bored with this conversation and leave Draco alone to his feelings. Feelings, he might add, that Theo had no right to vocalize.

“Tell me you don’t love me. Tell me Theo was lying.” Harry looked desperate now. He looked like he needed to hear Draco deny it. As if, the denial would make everything go back to normal. The Golden Boys’ emerald eyes were a bit blood shot and Draco remembered them welling up with tears.

“I-uh, what?” Draco managed. The words choking in his throat.

“Malfoy, tell me it isn’t true. Tell me it now.” Potter’s voice was strained. It sounded like something had broken inside the man and the only thing that could fix it were Draco’s words.

“Fine,” Draco sighed, “Potter. I. Don’t. Love. You,” the lie sat heavy in Draco’s throat. He felt sick to his stomach saying the words, but he realized Harry sodding Potter needed to hear them. Merlin knows why, but apparently Potter needed to believe that Draco didn’t love him .

Draco shook the memory away, tears freshly falling from his eyes, staining his cheeks. Of course that stupid prat would have to come back into his life and make him feel again. Harry stupid Potter.


	7. Harry Potter: The Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This took forever and I am sooooooo sorry, you beautiful, beautiful people. But I'm back now, so hopefully the rest won't take too long.

Harry woke up sweating. Something he was used to from years of nightmares about Voldemort. Now, they were nightmares about Ned’s death. Each time Harry tried something different, but Ned still died.

It was still quiet in the Infirmary and the sky was barely starting to brighten, but to Harry’s surprise he heard a voice whispering softly, so he put his glasses on and shrugged out of bed.

When he opened the curtain he saw Malfoy and McGonagall standing over the boy’s bed. They were huddled and whispering. Harry decided to make himself known, so he coughed loudly and the pair promptly turned to face him.

“Ah, morning, Harry,” McGonagall said, “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Harry lied. There was no use in adding his nightmares to the list of already existing problems at Hogwarts. Plus, he found he was more concerned with Malfoy’s furrowed brow and vacant expression than his own discomfort.

“Nero has made a full recovery, well from the potion, I doubt he will ever recover from the torture of his fellow Slytherin’s will impart upon him,” Malfoy said.

He also took note that Malfoy’s voice was full of concern. Merlin, that man was an enigma. After four years, Harry had expected the man to be the same boy he had resigned to hate all those years ago and in some ways he really was still the same. But he had clearly grown in that time, too. Surely, he was still a git and a prat even, but he had softened a bit and didn’t seem as afraid to be emotional. It was refreshing and Harry found he quite liked this newer version of Malfoy.

“Potter, are you all right? Your face is positively red?” Malfoy asked raising an eyebrow in the most absurdly attractive way. Harry made a sort of grunt noise under his breath because he was sure Malfoy knew how attractive he was and obviously used it to his advantage. Again, being at Hogwarts was making him think of the things that he had sworn not to think about ever again. Not since the Astronomy Tower.

“What? I’m fine,” Harry lied again. He wasn’t about to admit he had just blushed thinking about Malfoy. _No sodding way._ Instead, he steered the conversation away from his wellbeing, “I have a theory about the Love Potion stuff.”

“Stuff? Is that a technical term they teach you at the Ministry?” Malfoy snorted and Harry blushed again.

“No, well, it’s early. Give me a break,” Harry said and slumped back to sit on the edge of his bed. He was almost positive Malfoy was teasing him and not making fun of him because the tone he used seemed to be playful, instead of arrogant. It was the way Malfoy had treated him during their repeated seventh year. Once Harry had accepted Malfoy’s apology, the blond prat had gone back to teasing Harry, just in a less obnoxious way. And Harry quite liked it. Malfoy didn’t treat him like he was some kind of godsend. The insults and constant bickering grounded Harry and made him feel like a person, not a hero.

“What’s the theory?” McGonagall asked. She then proceeded to look back and forth between Harry and Malfoy, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Harry made a mental note to ask her about it later.

“Well, Love Potions, while mildly dangerous, are a less serious problem. A problem that any Auror could handle, yet I am here. I think that the smaller love potions were made by students as pranks, but my theory is the ingredients for Amortentia were stolen by an adult here at Hogwarts. I think they knew I was assigned to the case and then decided to try and target me. ” Harry said this all in one breath, not wanting Malfoy to interrupt him again.

“And you think Love Potions at Hogwarts is part of their elaborate plan? To what, love you to death?” Malfoy asked.

“Well, I said it was a theory. I am one of the higher ranked Auror’s and yet, they sent me here alone to deal with a case that any first year Auror could handle. It would be easy for them to target me here, especially under the cover of students abusing love potions as pranks. It would look like an accident. A love potion brewed incorrectly.”

“Well, yes, but Hermione suggested I request you, surely you don’t think she is involved,” McGonagall added.

“No, no, what I am saying is, there are Death Eaters out there still targeting me for killing Voldemort and this would give them a good chance to kill me. They nearly got me last year with an Avada, but my partner stepped in front of the curse and saved my life.”

“Potter, how sure are you?” McGonagall asked.

“Not completely, but almost very positive,” Harry answered, “But I think we can set a trap for the culprit.”

“How exactly?” Malfoy asked.

“Use me as bait,” Harry responded.

“Why am I not surprised by your brilliant plan?” Malfoy snarled.

“Listen, it could work. Christmas break is coming up, right? Almost all the students will have gone home. We can make it look like someone slipped me a wonky love potion and then if the culprit is still here, they will be confused and get dodgy. I am almost positive it's an adult who is brewing it. If it were a student, I think they would have used it by now.”

“That’s actually kind of brilliant,” Malfoy added. “You should warn your superiors about it, just in case. And then, find out who is bloody stealing all of my ingredients!”

Malfoy looked so serious at that last part that Harry had to laugh. He tried to stifle it, but it turned into a full blown belly laugh. Soon, McGonagall joined in and a smile crept across Malfoy’s face before he joined in laughing as well .

                                                                                  ***

Harry ventured from the infirmary toward the owlry, parchment in hand, and as he was rounding a corner, he ran into a dirt-covered Neville Longbottom almost knocking a few clay pots out of the man’s dirt-covered hands.

“Oof,” Neville cried as he fumbled to catch the pots before they hit the ground.

“Nev,” Harry answered and offered an apologetic smile, “sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” In fact, he was deep in thought about bloody Malfoy and his stupid blonde hair. Merlin, in a few days time Harry had gone from barely thinking about Malfoy, to only thinking of Malfoy. _Stupid, Hogwarts._

“No problem, Harry. It’s nice to see you. Been a while, yeah?” Neville smiled weakly at Harry and Harry couldn’t help feel like he abandoned Neville after the war. Sure they saw each other on occasion, but Harry never went out of his way to see the man.

“About two months, right? At Luna’s birthday party ,” Harry spoke, his voice questioning because he wasn’t exactly sure if that was the last time he’s seen Neville. But the dirt-covered Herbology professor, nodded in agreement, so Harry figured he was on the mark.

“Yeah, right. Time flies,” Neville shifted uncomfortably, trying to regain control over the clay pots that Harry had knocked loose.

“You never mentioned to me that Malfoy had taken over as Potions professor,” Harry said, shifting the conversation to Malfoy. He had to admit he was curious as to why Neville hadn’t mentioned that their boyhood rival was his new co-worker. Seemed like a bloody important thing to not mention.

“Oh, hadn’t I? Silly me. I thought I said…” but it was clear in Neville’s fidgeting features that he was lying.

“No, I think I would have remembered, especially if you said you were friends with him,” Harry felt the last part of his sentence sounded a bit jealous, but hoped Neville would skip over it.

“Er, right. Well, see…the thing is…well, Hermione had mentioned that you still got sour every time Malfoy was brought up and I didn’t want to…you know, upset you.”

“Sour? That’s ridiculous.” Harry tried to remember the last time they had all discussed Malfoy. It had been Ron who brought up the blond prat. Said he’s seen him in The Leaky Cauldron. Said Malfoy seemed put together, better than he’d seemed after the trails. Harry felt his stomach lurch at the mention of Malfoy and abruptly left the room.

“Well, she had said that Ron brought him up once in passing and that you stomped from the room mumbling something about ‘arrogant git’ and so they decided not to mention him to you anymore.”

“I, uh, well, you see…” but Harry couldn’t conjure up a good excuse because the end of that sentence would have been; you see that’s because I am mad at him for snogging me and then pretending it never happened. But of course, that was a ridiculous reason and Harry knew it because Harry had done the exact same thing. He never mentioned it either. Instead he had forced Malfoy to say he had no feelings for him, most likely shutting down any opportunity for Malfoy to mention the snogging. That was the memory Harry tried to avoid at all costs. The memory that Hogwarts seemed to be extracting from him bit by bit like the kiss of a Dementor.

“It’s fine, Harry. Just…well, he has changed you know? I quite like him. Enjoy his company even,” Neville said as a smile spread across his face, lighting up his features. Harry noted that Neville’s affection for Malfoy seemed a bit more than platonic and that made him wonder if the pair had ever…

“I…I can see that,” Harry admitted, “He seemed different even during the last year at Hogwarts.”

“Harry, you okay? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No, just…a memory. Sorry, Nev. I’ve got to go send these off to Ron.”


	8. Draco Malfoy: The Plan to Use that Malfoy Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I figure it is only fair to post more than one chapter since you all have been waiting way too long.

“Draco?” Neville’s voice called out.

“What is it now, Nev, I am busy you know,” Draco spoke as he emerged from his office. He was busy recounting his potions and ingredients at the Golden Boys request. Stupid git that he was had only had to smile while he asked and Draco obliged.

“Only, I was just talking to Harry…” Neville started, but his gaze caught Draco’s which was one a bewilderment and anger.

“Nev, I am going to stop you there. We have gone over this a thousand times. I am not telling him. No way.”

“It’s just…I think he does remember.”

And just then Draco regretted ever telling Neville about the time in their repeated year that Draco had gotten completely and totally pissed and had run into a completely and totally pissed Harry Potter and the two had started out arguing, but ended up snogging, in the snow, for what felt like hours. It had happened two weeks before Potter had forced Draco to say that he didn’t love him when they were up in the blasted Astronomy Tower.

“How do you…but, he was really very pissed. He never acted like he remembered, Nev. Plus he seemed pretty mad at me when he was yelling at me in the tower, if you’ll recall?”

Draco recalled Potter acting exactly the same towards him the day after the snog in the snow. No extra attention, no stolen glances, nothing. Not even a word was exchanged between the pair. Then after a week passed, Draco had surmised it was yet another drunken night that Potter wouldn’t remember, much like the many nights when Potter, pissed and apparently lonely, seemed to find Draco wherever he was in the castle and then Draco would drag him back to the Gryffindor tower, knowing Potter wouldn’t mention it the next day, either because he didn’t remember, or because he was ashamed. Whichever it was, Draco was left hurting.

“It’s just in the way he talks about you.”

“You are ridiculous. What is it then that makes you so sure?”

“Well, just now, when I mentioned how I liked your company, his eyes went wide with shock and then I saw his face shift into this sort of grimace that made him look jealous and then he said he noticed you had changed in our last year at school. Then he looked off into nothing and when I asked him what was wrong, he replied ‘it was just a memory.’ A memory, Draco!”

“That could have been anything, Nev.”

“Yes, but he said it right after we were talking about you .”

“So?”

“Go see for yourself. Lay on that Malfoy charm and see. I’ll bet he remembers.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Draco asked.

“Then, you can move on from him and finally take me on that date,” Neville said, winking at Draco.

“You really are mad, you know?” Draco asserted and Neville only laughed.


	9. Harry Potter: The Muggle Drinking Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some hardcore flirting, for your reading pleasure!!!! Love you all who are reading this and thank you soooooo much :)

After two days of stalking around the castle and interviewing students and professors alike, Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World was absolutely knackered.

Malfoy was no help, other than to occasionally yell at him to find the culprit which Harry still laughed at because seeing Malfoy angry was now a sort of delightful thing. Harry found he liked the fake yell that Malfoy used and the emphasis he put on _Potter_ when he spoke. Harry also found he was feeling guilty for thinking about Malfoy so often when he knew he should be more focused on his case, no matter how silly it seemed.

But it was bloody Friday and there hadn’t been anymore attacks on the students, so Harry decided he would go to Hogsmead and get a drink. Even the Saviour of the Wizarding World deserved a break once in a while, especially after spending the last few days ignoring all his feelings for Malfoy and any memory involving the man. Harry was in denial and it felt…horrible, but he couldn’t bring himself to think the truth, to think the thing he had known four years ago when he had begged Malfoy to say he wasn’t in love with him.

Once plopped on a stool in the Hogs Head, Harry let himself relax a bit. That is until Draco sodding Malfoy plopped down on the stool next to him. Well, plopped isn’t the right word. It was more like hovered gracefully, before placing his rear end down upon a cushiony pedestal. Harry still couldn’t get over how controlled Malfoy always was, each move calculated, each move deliberate. It was like watching a ballet. Grace and care put into even the most mundane actions.

“Potter, taking a break are we?” Malfoy’s voice was velvety like the first warm sip of coffee and Harry felt his heart flop, again, that stupid traitor.

“Mmm,” was all he managed. He was becoming very monosyllabic whenever Malfoy was around.

“Any progress?”

“Some.”

“Well? Do share, Potter. You have me at the edge of my seat with anticipation,” Malfoy spoke in a drawling tone that Harry had come to recognize as Malfoy’s version of a joke.

Harry had been shocked at how easily the pair had been getting on the last few days. He expected them to fight, argue, hex each other, maybe throw a punch or two, but instead the two seemed to fall into a rhythm.

The rhythm was Harry would be extra vague because he knew it drove Malfoy mad and in turn Malfoy would pretend to be rude and tease Harry until he gave him more information. If Harry hadn’t known better, he would have thought Malfoy was flirting with him, but he had gotten confirmation a long time ago about the mans feelings, even though Harry had sort of forced Malfoy to say it, so he tried to push that thought aside. But Harry felt his face get hot and his stomach lurched.

That was happening quite often when he thought about Malfoy and Harry didn’t know what to do about it, so he promptly decided to ignore it until it went away, which of course it hadn’t, but a boy can dream.

“Can’t I just have one moment of peace, Malfoy?” Harry opted for an answer. He really was a bit tired of the case. He had owled Ron and Hermione about it and neither of them were any help, not really. Ron had only relayed what Harry had already suspected and Hermione had only asked how he and Malfoy were getting on. _As if that were somehow significant._

“Oh, someone’s cranky then?”

“Sod it all. This case is the most tedious thing I have ever done.”

“Seems the Chose One is getting upset,” Malfoy mock-pouted and _Merlin_ , it was sexy, “whatever shall we do to remedy this problem?”

“Uh,” was all Harry managed because again, it seemed like Malfoy was flirting with him, which wasn’t possible. And again, Harry felt his face flush and his hands got clammy, so he looked away from Malfoy until his face returned to a normal color.

“Fine, I’ve got an idea, go grab a booth and I’ll grab us a very expensive bottle of Firewhiskey,” Malfoy said, a smirk stretching across his face, “Go, Potter, get us a seat.”

Harry stood up obediently and walked over to a booth in the back where most people would have to crane their necks to see them. He told himself he picked that booth so that people wouldn’t come over and talk to them, he didn’t want to deal with fans, but really he wanted to be alone with Malfoy and this was the closet thing to it.

“Okay, Potter, are you ready?” Malfoy placed a very large, very full, bottle of Firewhiskey on the table in front of Harry. Then Malfoy proceeded to slide into the booth across from him.

“What are we doing?” Harry asked.

“Playing a game I learned from a muggle bloke I dated last year,” Malfoy added in the part about the boyfriend thing so nonchalantly that Harry almost missed it because the more shocking part was that the man had been a muggle.

“Sorry, did you say ‘muggle boyfriend’?” Harry asked. He had wanted to be sure he heard correctly. Malfoy was really full of surprises. Harry couldn’t help but think about how it would have been these last four years if they had become friendly sooner. But Harry never could seem to reach out to Malfoy. He wrote a bunch of letters, but never sent them because it always seemed too silly to care about Malfoy that much, even though he knew the reason he had cared so much.

The memory always stopped him from reaching out to Malfoy. The repeated year, Harry had found himself depressed, for more than one reason, and found that Firewhiskey was very helpful in forgetting. However, each time he got pissed, he went looking for Malfoy with his trusted Maurader's Map. The first few times, the boys had only talked-well, Harry had talked and Malfoy had dragged him back to his dorm. But then a few nights, Harry had found a drunk Malfoy, which meant that both boys would talk and then, argue because that was in their nature. But one time, the argument segued into the most liberating snogging session of Harry’s life. It was full of desperation, desire, hope, and even, fear. The boys had fallen into the snow and were a tangled mess of elbows and tongue. But the next day, Malfoy hadn’t said a word. So, when the rumors that Malfoy loved him began spreading, he was furious and was convinced it wasn’t true and had the Slytherin confirm it up in the Astronomy tower, which was probably stupid on his part, but he hadn’t come to terms with his sexuality and Malfoy didn’t seem to care enough to mention it.

Suddenly, Draco’s voice broke through Harry’s memory, “Yes, Potter. Now, listen to the rules.”

Harry nodded in response deciding that he would ask about the muggle boyfriend again at a later date because he truly was curious. He waited while Malfoy poured two shots of Firewhiskey and slid one across the table to Harry. Their fingers brushed lightly for a second, but it was enough to make Harry’s stomach flop.

But for the first time, it wasn’t from being nervous, it was out of guilt. Suddenly, Harry was reminded of Ned and the sacrifice the man had made. Somehow, letting himself enjoy Malfoy’s company felt like a betrayal to Ned’s memory. But in part, it felt like it was a long time in the making. Four years to be exact.

“Okay, so it goes like this: I make a statement about you that I think is true, something I don’t already know, and if I am right, you drink, if I am wrong, I drink. Make sense so far?”

Harry nodded because he didn’t trust his voice yet. He was only half listening to Malfoy. The other half of him was enamored by the softness of Malfoy’s features. The delicate lines around his eyes and the pink tint of his lips. The grayness of his eyes reminded Harry of plumes of smoke that rose after a candle was blown out.

“Then, you go and basically we keep going like that until the bottle’s empty. Ready?”

Harry nodded again. He was curious why Malfoy was being so friendly because even with the routine they established, they hadn’t done much personal bonding. He was nervous because he wasn’t sure if he could hold himself together, especially with Firewhiskey in the mix. However, he was also excited because he felt like he was in the right place for the first time in years which was odd, to say the least.

“Right, okay, so…hmm, what do I know is true about Harry Potter. Oh, yes, you’re right handed. Bottoms, up.”

“That’s cheating. Almost everyone is right handed.”

“I never said I played fair, _Potter_ ,” Malfoy put special emphasis on Harry’s name, making it sound positively sexual and then winked at the man. Harry was quickly blushing again, face red partly from the Slytherin’s tone and partly from the warm whiskey in his stomach. So, maybe Malfoy was flirting with him after all. Because that was definitely flirtatious, even Harry, who was rubbish at flirting, knew that that had been flirtatious.

“Fine, two can play that game,” Harry said raising an eyebrow at Malfoy in challenge, “You probably have a summer home in Paris.”

“Mmm,” Malfoy said as he brought the shot glass up to his lips. The pair went on like that for a few minutes, making sure to stay on safe topics, so as not to scare the other off. Things like favorite ice cream flavors, preferences in clothing, most used word, but after seven shots, Harry felt his courage building up and decided to make the game more interesting.

“Okay, I’ve got one,” Harry slurred, “You’ve been flirting with me since I got here.” Immediately, Harry regretted saying that sentence because if Malfoy didn’t take a shot, Harry will have most certainly made an arse out of himself.

Malfoy’s fingers played around the rim of the shot glass as he eyed Harry up and down. His lip was twitching into a half-smile and then he curled his long fingers around the glass and slowly moved the glass up to his lips. He stopped right in front of his mouth and Harry felt like his stomach was in his throat.

Finally, Malfoy put his head back and swallowed the shot. Harry’s body relaxed so much that he was practically flopped over the table.

“Okay, I’ve got one too,” Malfoy leaned in over the table and bit his lower lip. The gesture sent a shiver down Harry’s spine.

“What is it?” Harry asked shakily.

“You have wanted to kiss me all night,” Malfoy said and pushed the shot glass towards Harry with a positively accomplished smile across his face. For a brief second, Harry considered not drinking the shot, if only to beat Malfoy at the game, but quickly he decided he would rather be honest, so he pulled the shot up to his mouth and downed it in a quick gulp.

Harry was very surely pissed, but through his slightly blurred vision he saw a smiling Draco Malfoy and he was blushing, too. Fitting really, that they would need to be drunk to be honest with each other.

Malfoy reached a hand across the table and wrapped his delicately soft fingers around Harry’s hand. Harry felt himself explode with happiness and butterflies in a way he had never experienced upon someones touch. Well, he had felt this once before when he and Malfoy had snogged in the snow.

It was like the touch woke him up out of a deep slumber. A slumber he hadn’t known he needed to be woken from. It was like the first breath you take in after being under water. It was unlike anything Harry had ever felt and it was Draco Malfoy who was making him feel it.

“Potter, is everything all right?” Malfoy asked, but Harry couldn’t answer. He didn’t have the words to express what he was feeling. Honestly, how does one tell their former rival in all things that their touch had been the thing missing from one’s life?

“Yes, fine, right…let’s see,” Harry racked his brain for something that could rival what Malfoy and just said and dared to finally get some answers in the process, “Yes, in our repeated year at Hogwarts, in the Astronomy tower, I made you tell me you didn’t love me. But it was a lie, you did love me then.”

But before Malfoy could react to what Harry had said, a small man appeared at Harry’s side, holding a bit of parchment out, “Harry Potter, sir, an owl for you,” and the parchment bore the seal of the Auror’s on it. So, Harry pulled his gaze away from Malfoy long enough to regain some semblance of sanity and grabbed the letter, thanking the small man who was now wobbling away from the table.

“It’s a list of names,” Harry asserted in an attempt to forget what he had just said about the Astronomy tower, stupid, really, why had Harry even brought that up, “Apparently, these are known Death Eater’s with children still in school at Hogwarts.”

“Oh, does the ministry expect anyone who was ever tied to Death Eaters? How bloody original. Suppose my names there as well,” Malfoy spoke, all the frivolity from before had left his expression and was now painted with disdain.

“Merlin, no, Malfoy. Th—they are just being careful, that’s all,” Harry moved his hand across the table and placed it on top of Malfoy’s. He traced a small circle on the back of Malfoy’s hand, hoping to calm the blond’s nerves. Clearly, he was still hurt about all the animosity he received post-war. Of course, how could Harry be so stupid.

Malfoy pulled his hand from under Harry’s, “I’ll see you in the morning, Potter.” And with that, Malfoy stood up and walked out of the pub.


	10. Draco Malfoy: The Time Neville Called Him an Imbecile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville is a good friend, right?

“You absolute imbecile,” Neville semi-shouted as he watered some plants of his. The man’s posture was stiff as he made his way around the Greenhouse. Dirt was caked on his face and clothes, the way it always was.

“Why am I am imbecile, exactly?” Draco asked, though he really did know the answer. Getting up and walking away from Potter last night had been a horrible mistake, but Draco felt so hurt and the fact that Death Eater’s were plaguing his life once again, only put him in a bad mood. Plus, Potter had mentioned the Astronomy tower and Draco was not ready to broach that subject, not quite yet.

“Harry was flirting back! He was flirting, you daft, whiney prat,” Neville continued, “and…and you just got up, after four years of pining for the man, and you left?”

“Yes, I see your point, okay? You are permitted to cease the semi-yelling and resume watering your silly plants,” Draco was in a sour mood now. He had to admit, it did seem very much like Potter was interested. He had been the first one to mention something flirtatious during their game and he had let Draco hold his hand. And he mentioned the tower. Why would he bring that up, unless it held some significance in Harry’s life?

“I told you,” Neville smiled, “I knew it.”

“Oh, all right. Flirting isn’t the same as liking me. I flirt with everyone, doesn’t always mean something.”

“Yes, but Harry…he isn’t like that and he did mention the Astronomy tower thing, which means he probably does remember all the drunken meetings.” Neville continued watering plants as Draco sat and threw small pieces of mulch at him.

Suddenly, Draco felt a darkness wash over him and he felt like he was going to cry. He had found his mind wandering away from thoughts of Potter and to his time as a Death Eater and the kinds of tasks Voldemort had asked him to perform. Just the thought of the memory made Draco want to vomit. He hated what Voldemort had done to him, how he had used him as if he were simply expendable. And how Draco had let him.

“How could someone like him…ev-ever love me?” Draco blurted out. He was crying now. Crying because of the horrible things he had done. Crying because his heart ached for Potter. Crying because Golden Boy Potter could never…should never love someone like Draco.

Draco hated crying, but let himself succumb to the action out of necessity. He was overwhelmed with fear and it wasn’t like he was crying in front of just anybody, he was crying in front of Neville, who had easily become his best mate over the last year. All his other friends wanted something from him, but Neville only ever wanted friendship from him, despite all the jokes about dating him.

“Draco, what do you mean? You’ve grown so much. You are a different person than you once were. Plus, none of that was your choice. Harry can see that.” And with that Neville hugged Draco and held on tightly as Draco sobbed into the mans shoulder .


	11. Harry Potter: The Talk in the Potions Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who is still reading this, your patience and kindness are so apprecited!!! xoxox

Hung over and still confused about the previous night, Harry decided to keep busy reading profiles that the Ministry had owled. Each one was a detailed dossier of the employees of Hogwarts and any adult who had access to the grounds be it through floo, or appiration. The list was long. There were so many more people employed at Hogwarts than Harry had ever realized. Honestly, how had he not seen all of these people while he attended school?

Harry wanted to get a jump on the list, seeing as the Christmas break was starting in a few days and he needed to have some idea of who the culprit would be, so as to monitor their response to Harry’s love potion mishap.

After an hour or so of reading the birthplaces, hobbies, and known associates of the better part of Hogwarts employees, Harry’s mind drifted to Malfoy, as it so often had of late. Harry couldn’t help but be slightly embarrassed about Malfoy’s abrupt exit the night before. Sure, Harry had broached the Death Eater subject with all the tact of a hippogriff in a broom shop, but that didn't mean Malfoy had to get up and leave. Harry had tried to smooth things over, but Malfoy had just gotten up and left.

Harry found himself shifting from embarrassment to anger. That stupid git just got up and left. They were getting along so well. They were flirting. Merlin’s beard, they had even held hands and that prat just gets up the second things get a little difficult?

That was childish and rude and Harry was going to give Draco sodding Malfoy a piece of his mind.

                                                                                       ***

“Oh, bloody hell,” Malfoy said. Harry had found him in the Potion’s closet counting vials. He didn’t announce himself right away because he found it was proving to be difficult to talk, especially after their game last night where Harry all but revealed his recent infatuation with Malfoy. And especially so, since Harry had resolved to give Malfoy a piece of his mind.

“Erm,” Harry cleared his throat, figuring Malfoy could start the conversation.

“Potter, has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words? The women must swoon at your feet,” Malfoy spoke without turning around or making eye contact with Harry.

“You are a total prat sometimes, you know that?”

“Yes, you’ll find it is one of my more endearing characteristics,” Malfoy turned around slowly to face Harry who was now a bright shade of red, “However, there are other things that I do so much better.” Malfoy said the last part and then proceeded to bite his lower lip and push toward Harry, who was backing up tentatively, even though this is what Harry wanted. More than anything, he wanted Malfoy. He wanted to be alone with the git. He wanted to push Malfoy against a wall and snog him until their lips were bruised and their breath was ragged.

“Uh, well, right…” Harry stammered, shocked by Malfoy’s seeming indifference to their mishap last night. Malfoy’s aggression was the complete opposite of his behavior at the end of last night. Harry figured Malfoy would insult him a few more times and then brush him off, but instead it seemed Malfoy was acting as if he wasn't a total ponce last night, running away from things as soon as it became difficult.

 _Wow, Malfoy was attractive._ His blonde hair was slicked back and his eyes were hungrily watching Harry. He couldn’t let himself get distracted. He needed to tell Malfoy what was on his mind, so Harry cleared his throat and continued, “There’s something I need to say to you.”

“Go on,” Malfoy invited. His eyes narrowed onto Harry and the seriousness of Malfoy’s gaze made Harry almost chicken out, almost.

“Last night, you leaving,” Harry started, “That was stupid.”

“Well, my, my Mr. Potter, you do flatter me so with your kind words,” Malfoy mocked and then smirked in that sexy way he always had smirked. It was just the left corner of Malfoy’s mouth that twitched up into a half-smile. Harry had noted most of Malfoy’s mannerisms, committed them to memory, long ago when the two were still students at Hogwarts.

“Sod off, Malfoy. I am being serious. Why did you leave? We were getting on very well and one little thing happens and your off like…like what was happening with us was nothing?”

“What was happening with us?” Malfoy asked, but it wasn't really a question. It was more of an assertion. Malfoy’s body stiffened and he straightened out his posture. Harry also noted that Malfoy’s cheeks were flushed pink.

“Don't play dumb, Malfoy. You know what I mean.”

“Pray, do tell, Potter.”

“Merlin, you're a git.”

“Again with the sweet talk, Potter.”

“The game,” Harry pleaded, his voice shaky, “I asked you about the Astronomy Tower. I’d like an answer.”

“I don't know what you mean. I was pretty pissed last night,” Malfoy said with a flick of the wrist as if he were literally swatting the idea away. Harry found his frustration bubbling in his stomach and was half-ready to punch Malfoy and half-ready to kiss the prat.

“Oh, you ponce. You absolute prat. You know exactly what I mean,” Harry was shouting now and had moved in close to Malfoy and grabbed his robes up to pull Malfoy up even closer, so they were face to face. Harry felt Malfoy exhale and Harry breathed in the sweet scent of peppermint that seemed to radiate around Malfoy.

“Potter, I…” Malfoy started, let out a deep breath, closed his eyes, and then continued, “It’s true.”

Still standing close to Malfoy, Harry relaxed his body and his grip on Malfoy’s robes, “It is?”

“Obviously,” Malfoy drawled and placed his hands on Harry’s chest, trying to push away from him, “But I think you knew that then and now.”

“Maybe,” Harry spoke, letting his eyes fall to Malfoy’s lips which were pouting and plump and Harry wanted to take Malfoy’s bottom lip between his own and bite down gently. He wanted to snog Malfoy so badly at this point that it was torture to be so near the git and not have his lips on Malfoy’s.

“Potter?” Malfoy said softly and backed up, hitting the wall behind him. Harry quickly closed the gap and rested his hands on the wall on either side of Malfoy. Harry let his body touch Malfoy’s ever so slightly. Just enough that he could feel the warmth of Malfoy’s body through his robes. Malfoy wasn't going to get the chance to run out on him again, not when they were so close to kissing.

“Mmm,” Harry purred. Malfoy’s voice was intoxicating and it was taking all of his self-control to not strip Malfoy down here in the potions closet.

“You are standing very close,” Malfoy spoke and let his lip brush against Harry’s lip. It was so subtle, Harry almost thought it was unintentional.

“Shhh.”

“Potter, don't shhh me,” Malfoy semi-shouted, but before he could say anymore, Harry had done exactly what he had wanted to. He took Malfoy’s bottom lip between his own and pushed in gently, then bit down. Malfoy didn't pull away, instead Harry felt Malfoy’s body relax and fall into his own body. Eliminating any space that had previously been between them.


	12. Draco Malfoy: The Kiss in the Potions Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I felt like switching POV right in the middle of the kiss because I am crazy xoxox
> 
> Also, get ready for some plot heavy chapter up ahead as we find out who is responsible for the love potions, ultimately figuring out who is trying to kill Harry Potter. Of course there will still be plenty of kissing and stuff ;) but there will also be a bunch of development. See ya'll soon!

Passion and desire were brimming inside of Draco. It was taking all of his control to not melt into a puddle of lust right there in front of his boyhood rival and crush. So, Draco pulled back from the kiss briefly to hopefully gain some composure, “Ha-Harry, I…” he started , but the rest of what he had intended to say fell dead on his lips because Potter was looking at him. It was just a look, but it was enough to make Draco forget his own name.

Draco looked at Potter closely, taking in the soft lines around the man’s eyes and the deep, overwhelming emerald of his iris’. Draco wanted to touch Potter’s flush pink cheeks and stroke his index finer along the length of Potter’s jawbone. He wanted to touch Potter, everywhere, for that matter.

But before Draco could move, Potter had taken Draco’s face into his hands. It was a soft motion, unassuming and gentle. The motion sent Draco’s body aflame and he felt his hands getting clammy. His heart pounded loudly, demanding that Draco notice the frenzy Potter’s touch had caused within him. And boy, had Draco noticed. He noticed that along with the hot flush of his cheeks and the pounding of his heart, he was now extremely and noticeably hard.

“I am going to continue to kiss you now, okay?” Potter’s voice broke the silence and Draco nodded in response, his voice still lost .

Potter pulled Draco’s face in closer to his own and closed the little space that was between their mouths. Then Potter tilted his head to the side and parted his lips. The warm breath that escaped, ghosted over Draco’s lips and the smell reminded him of Christmas. Draco’s heart continued to pound rapidly against his chest.

Draco closed his eyes and swallowed hard, waiting for Harry’s lips to fully connect with his own. The anticipation was akin to hell. It was agonizing and it was exciting all at once. And finally when Draco was lost in thought, Potter pushed his lips against Draco’s.

The man’s lips were soft and unsure, gently resting on Draco’s own lips and suddenly, Draco couldn’t hold back anymore, all that Malfoy resolve gone, so he put his hand at the nape of Potter’s neck and pulled them deeper into the kiss.

Draco felt Potter let out a sigh as their kiss became fevered, frantic, fantastic. The pair pulled their bodies flush to one another and then their hands began to slide down across each other’s bodies. Potter’s finally resting on Draco’s chest and Draco’s resting on Potter’s hips. Draco focused on the tightening of Potter’s muscle’s under his hands as Potter thrust his pelvis slightly into Draco.

Breathing heavily with lips intertwined, Harry had pushed into Draco again, slower and more deliberate this time. Draco felt the mans hard body against him. It was enough to send Draco into a fit, his own body hard against Potter.

Soon, Potter’s lips had shifted from Draco’s mouth and were peppering kisses along Draco’s jawline and down the side of his neck. Draco let out a small moan and felt Potter smile against his neck before resuming the fevered kisses.

Then, just as Draco had pulled Potter’s face back up to his so he could litter kisses all over the man’s body, starting at his head; a knock came from the other side of the large door.

Potter pulled away and smiled weakly at Draco. Draco, on the other hand, shook his head and thanked Merlin that his robes would cover his now very noticeable erection, and answered the door .


End file.
